I'm somewhat flitting between giving this a four or a five-star rating, so although I've currently settled on the former, note that this is subject to change. If I were exclusively assigning the stars to the main work in this group of writings, De Profundis, there would be no doubt in my mind about giving it the highest possible, despite knowledge of context displaying the blatantly obvious story of Wilde's lack of adherence to the principles and moral self-discovery detailed. It's both remarkably frustrating and saddening to read with that broader knowledge of how the infamous author spent his days (and little money derived predominantly from allowances) post-incarceration, involving, as I'm aware, alcoholism, MORE male prostitution, and a return to his former lover, Lord Alfred Douglas, who was shunned so deeply in De Profundis, seemingly at the agony of Wilde. Despite it being relatively short-lived due to threats from both Constance and Douglas' family to completely cut off funds resulting in the two being penniless, the affair has the same symbolic resonance. Bosie, allegedly the source (or catalyst) for the majority of Wilde's legal, artistic, emotional, and monetary problems, was what the latter returned to in his desperate state in Naples, not Robert Ross, who was loyal, forgiving, and kind to him until his demise; this all leads me to believe that in many ways, Wilde's descent, as an artist and fulfilled, content human, was largely self-induced. For me, this is incredibly tragic, although unsurprising. I suppose that all the hope for the future suggested in his remarkably long, fluent, and profound letter amounted to effectively nothing, and the retreat from hedonism and self-destruction was only ever facilitated by a depleted source of money, not a spiritual awakening or connection to his idea of God. I'm sure it was all a coping mechanism, but it makes me hopelessly miserable nonetheless. Of course, the writing was gorgeous, even with the feeling of intrusion into an evidently highly intimate insight into Wilde's thoughts, feelings, and experiences. If you're already interested in Oscar Wilde and want to feel emotional, I'd definitely recommend, but if you're not prepared for prolonged ranting about Lord Alfred Douglas, talk of Catholicism and self-realisation, and considerable, if inexplicably justified, moping, perhaps you should momentarily re-think and psych yourself up.
As for the other essays and poetry, they were all relatively good - in terms of non-fiction, I enjoyed 'The Soul of Man Under Socialism' most, with its main theme being that capitalism restricts artists and that we should contrarily pursue socialism, allowing menial labour tasks to be completed by machinery and artistic and intellectual tasks to be indulged in by humans as they enjoy life. The majority of the poetry was, in my extremely humble opinion, not particularly remarkable or notably worth the read, but 'The Ballad of Reading Gaol' was, from my perspective, very successful in conveying its point and with a superb rhythm in light of its subject that I certainly appreciated.